


The twilight in your eyes

by BoomerangChicken



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/M, Family, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, McCall Pack, Protective Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoomerangChicken/pseuds/BoomerangChicken
Summary: Derek narrows his eyes."You're... from the future?"Scott misses the faint fond-exasperation that usually comes over Derek's face when he and Stiles come to him asking for help (now his face is all angry-eyebrows and that "quit wasting my time, I have important werewolf business to attend to" expression)The older man jerks his head towards Stiles."You from the future too?""Oh no, I'm just here for moral support."----Scott is stuck in the past, but with help from his best friend (and a few friends who don't actually know him yet) he intends to make a better future for his pack, and ensure that a certain surly werewolf clan gets a little vengeance while he's at it.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 207
Kudos: 217





	1. Great Scott (McCall), this is heavy

Scott lets out a tired exhale, rubbing at his bleary eyes with the backs of his knuckles.

After a long day of looking over college applications and figuring out the next steps of his life by keeping his eyes locked on a computer screen, his brain aches.

Dealing with were-coyote's and supernatural assassins should _N_ _ot_ be easier than life planning.

He runs a hand through his short hair, slumping back into his chair before the ding of a notification from his phone catches his attention.

Scott struggles to get the phone out of his pocket for a moment, the slightly-cracked screen lighting up after he gets it out.

He's sure the message is from Stiles before he even gets the screen unlocked.

His next thought is covered in an endeared fondness.

'Who else would be texting me this late at night..'

The screen comes open, Scott's finger tapping on the messages icon.

Sure enough, it's from Stiles.

_"dude I just saw two lizards having sex."_

An amused huff leaves Scott's mouth, his thumb shifting over the screen as he replies.

_"... okay. Huh.. I didn't know lizards did that."_

_"NEITHER DID I"_

Scott chuckles softly, another message from Stiles popping up underneath his last.

_"I always thought they were egg-layers. But I saw the lizard peen and everything just now, man."_

The Typing symbol appears, disappears, and reappears over the next minute, and Scott imagines Stiles' thumbs bouncing around the screen, typing and deleting as he tries to get his fingers to keep up with what his brain wants to say.

_"..... I wonder if Jackson ever had sex when he was a lizard??"_

Scott laughs and cringes simultaneously, the phone vibrating as more messages from Stiles pour in.

_"oh god no, why did I make us see that mental image"_

_"I'm so sorry"_

_"Bad brain"_

_"Bad stiles brain"_

Scott is still laughing as he types out a reply.

_"Just so you know, if you make me puke, I'm sending you a picture of the regurgitated Pop-Tarts I had for dinner."_

_"Oh wow, Pop-Tarts for dinner, you're taking up the college diet already, I see."_

Scott snorts.

_"You think Pop-Tarts for dinner is awesome and you know it."_

Stiles' reply comes through almost instantaneously.

_"... I cannot deny this fact."_

Scott shakes his head with a grin as Stiles keeps typing.

_"I'm gonna go hop in the shower and try to scrub away the image of Jackson's reptilian junk"_

_"I think I'm going to flop into bed and pass out. Good luck with the lizard genitals."_

_"I'll be scrubbing hard, trust me. Sleep good, buddy"_

Scott fights back a yawn as he types out the last message.

_"I will. Have sweet dreams, Stiles."_

He waits a few seconds to see if Stiles responds, shutting the phone off and letting out another yawn after a moment.

Scott stands up out of the chair, keeping himself awake just long enough to go brush his teeth before he shuffles back to bed and collapses onto the mattress.

As he lays there with his head sinking into the pillow and his thoughts slowing, he gets the faint feeling that tomorrow is going to be a good day.

He has no idea just how mistaken that feeling is.

* * *

Scott knows something is wrong the moment he starts coming out of unconsciousness.

It feels like his morning grogginess has been amped up to eleven.

He clutches at his aching head, his mind struggling to cut through the fog and figure out what the hell is going on.

His eyes pry open, but his vision remains stubbornly blurry.

Scott drags himself out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom as his heartbeat speeds up worriedly.

He settles his forearms on the sink with a shaky exhale.

Even his limbs feel unresponsive and stiff.

He turns the faucet on with trembling fingers, cupping his hands under the stream and splashing the water over his face.

Scott douses a few more handfuls over his face before he shuts off the faucet.

'What is wrong with me..'

He stands there with his hands gripping the porcelain tightly, shaking his head to try and dislodge the feeling of cotton-candy cobwebs in his skull.

His vision has finally started to clear somewhat, but when his eyes pass over his reflection in the mirror, he can almost feel his heart skip a beat.

Softer cheeks, longer and messier hair adorning the top of his head.

A younger Scott McCall stares back at him in the mirror.

He can't stop the reflexive gasp of utter shock that slips out of his mouth.

Scott feels his heartbeat fly into panicked overdrive.

His first thought (after the obligatory _"holy fucking shit")_ is the memory of a de-aged Derek staring at him with confused, innocent eyes.

'Is that what this is??'

His thought-process goes into a frenzy, supplying ideas as to who, or _what,_ could have possibly done this to him.

'Fuck... Peter? No, no.. Gerard? maybe... Kate??'

He gives one more look to his baby-faced reflection and all semblance of structure to his thoughts disintegrates like ash.

Scott looks away from the mirror purposefully, fighting to calm his quickening breathing.

"Oh my god..."

He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales through his mouth to fend off the panic attack (the way Stiles taught him to)

After a minute, he finally feels like he's managed to inch away from a full-on breakdown.

'Okay, okay... I need help. I have to call someone.. have to call Deaton.'

He turns around and staggers back into the bedroom, frenzied thoughts bouncing around in his head as he looks over the room for his phone.

Scott notices the phone hooked up to a charger beside the bed, and he reaches for it on reflex.

He freezes still as soon as he picks it up.

'... this.. is my old phone.'

A nervous tremor shoots through his body, his thoughts going even further haywire as a second, _worse_ explanation for his situation comes to mind.

Anxious dread forms a dark pit in his stomach, his thumb hovering hesitantly over the power button on the phone.

He thinks up a silent, desperate prayer and presses the button, his eyes locking onto the date displayed in the corner of the screen.

Nausea hits him in a wave as he sees _"Jan. 4th, 2011"_ lit up in bright digital text.

Scott feels like his knees might give out at any moment, so he lets himself slump onto the bed as confusion and horror overwhelm him.

He finally begins to look around the bedroom properly, his eyes taking in the sights of old posters and furniture that shouldn't be there.

The dark-haired boy sits there with his heart thumping nervously in his chest, his mind feeling as though it's being pulled in twenty different directions as an avalanche of questions bombard his brain.

For the first time in a long time, he begins struggling to catch a breath.

Feeling his breathing become difficult ramps up his panic even further, which makes it even harder to breath.

He slides over to the desk by his bed quickly, yanking the drawer out and snatching up his inhaler.

Scott brings the inhaler to his lips and squeezes the button, taking in a deep and desperate breath.

After he gets his breathing under control, he stares at the inhaler in his hand with pained disbelief.

He tightens his free hand around the wooden headboard, but no matter how hard he grips at it, it doesn't leave the faintest dent in the wood.

All his attention then focuses on his hearing, but the only heartbeat he hears is the panicked rhythm of his own.

Yet another realisation leaves him thunderstruck.

'... I'm human again..'

He's not sure how many minutes pass as he sits there in stunned, horrified silence, but the morning sun begins to rise higher and brighter in the sky.

Scott jumps a little when he hears his mother's shout.

"Hey! You're gonna be late for school!"

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, focusing on keeping his voice steady as he calls back.

"I.. I'm feeling pretty sick! I think I should stay home today..."

After a few seconds, he can hear the sounds of his mother's footsteps getting louder.

She stops in his doorway and Scott tries to keep the panic off of his features.

From the way her eyebrows knit together worriedly after she looks at him, he's pretty sure he failed at that.

She walks into the room and puts a hand against his forehead.

"Feeling sick, huh? Hmm.. you sure you're okay to stay here by yourself?"

He's silent for a moment as he looks over his mother's face, three years of age vanishing off of her features overnight.

Scott finally manages to nod against her hand.

"Yeah. I'll.. I'll be alright."

She looks him over with a searching gaze, nodding back hesitantly.

"Okay. If you're sure.."

Melissa leans down and curls her arms around him in a hug.

It catches him off guard, but after a brief second, he wraps his arms around her tightly.

He feels the pervasive fear settling in his mind, and he wants to whisper against her shoulder.

'I'm scared, mom. I don't know what's happening'

But he stays silent, giving her a firm squeeze and pulling back from the embrace.

She gives him another concerned glance, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

"You sure you're feeling okay?"

He musters all the confidence he can into a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, mom. Go ahead, I don't want you to be late for work 'cause of me."

She watches him closely for a few more seconds, but she gives a smile of her own and squeezes his shoulder.

"Okay okay, I'm going."

She waves as she walks back out into the hallway.

"Call me if you need anything!"

"I will, mom.."

The door slams as she leaves a few minutes later.

He opens the phone, going to Deaton's name in his contacts and dialing.

It goes straight to voicemail and he fights off the urge to sling the phone into the wall.

Scott tries to ignore the feelings of terror and loneliness, birds chirping away happily outside his window.

* * *

He ventures outside to look for any signs that something is amiss (aside from the obvious one, that's he's, y'know, somehow three years in the past)

Everything looks distressingly normal, and Scott contemplates walking to the animal clinic to see Deaton on his own.

As if on cue, his breath gets that thick feeling in his throat, and he takes a hit off of his inhaler.

He decides that the journey to the animal clinic on foot is a bad idea, and fear drives him to retreat back into the house.

* * *

His phone starts vibrating insistently with calls and texts from Stiles.

He almost answers out of reflex at first, but he stops himself.

It isn't _His_ Stiles on the other end of the line. It's _three_ _years ago_ Stiles, the one that doesn't know anything about werewolves or Oni or Kitsune or.. time-travel.

If he tells him the truth ("Hey buddy, I woke up in the past, how's your day going?") Scott is pretty sure Stiles would drive him to Eichen House himself.

And Stiles, no matter which version of him, has always been way too damned perceptive to lie to with much success.

So Scott silences the ringtone and keeps trying Deaton's cell in between the ignored calls from his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sooo... I'm supposed to be studying, but I started writing this instead 😅😂 I got deeply attached to the characters after I binged the series last year, and the allure of the time-travel fic is obviously legendary..
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'll have the second one posted in a few days 😊 I'm a simple writer who's sustenance consists of comments and kudos, please feed me <3


	2. Man's best friend (thy name is Stiles)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments on the first chapter, they're the best inspiration in the world 😍💕 Happy Valentine's day, everyone!
> 
> Edit: I... totally forgot that the series didn't take place over six years in canon, so the timeline has now been edited to reflect that. *oh my god that all happened over 2 and a half years?!?... they are all gonna need so much therapy*

He's sitting on his bed, listening to the monotone digital voice informing him that he can leave a message after the beep, and he contemplates leaving Deaton another voicemail (it'll be his... 8th? No, wait, 9th..)

"Hey."

Scott startles and the phone almost goes flying out of his hand as Stiles speaks from the doorway.

"What the hell, Stiles??"

Stiles' expression is distinctly pout-like.

"I let myself in. Didn't see you at school today and thought maybe you were dead... but seeing as you've got the phone clutched in your hand.. I guess you really were just ignoring me, then."

A flash of hurt crosses over Stiles' face, and a stab of guilt cuts through the pervasive panic and confusion Scott has been feeling ever since he woke up into a Twilight Zone episode.

".. I'm sorry, Stiles. I wasn't ignoring you because I didn't wanna talk to you, I just.. I'm kinda freaking out over something."

Stiles' expression switches from miffed to concerned endearingly fast.

"What's got you freaking out?"

Scott lets out a deep sigh.

"It's hard to explain. I.. don't really want to talk about it."

He expects Stiles to start prying and hassling him for info, possibly under threat of torture, so Scott is a little shocked at the quietly understanding ".. okay." that Stiles gives.

Stiles lets his backpack slide off his arm and onto the floor, walking up and flopping down gently beside Scott on the bed.

He tugs at the hem of his shirt, taking a moment to decide what he wants to say.

"Just, whatever has you worried, don't let it get to you. We'll figure it out and handle it like the pro's we are."

A confident grin grows on his face, and he curls an arm around Scott's shoulders comfortingly.

Scott watches him with the faintly shocked and warmly impressed feeling that Stiles has always been so good at inspiring.

".. thank you, Stiles."

"No problem, Scotty."

* * *

They spend the next couple of hours eating toaster-oven pizza (the anxious nausea unsettling Scott's stomach keeps him from doing anything more than nibbling at the edges of his piece) and watching some old action flick that Stiles pulls up on his phone.

Scott is paying more attention to watching Stiles out of the corner of his eye than the movie itself.

'How would you really react.. if I told you what was going on?'

Stiles munches on a bite of lukewarm pizza, watching the movie with entranced eyes.

Scott tries to think of a single time that his best friend has ever let him down in their entire lives.

He only has to think about it for a few brief seconds, because he knows Stiles hasn't ever done that, not once.

Scott summons all the courage he can find and forces himself to speak.

"... do you really wanna know what's freaking me out?"

Stiles looks over at him in surprise, pausing the movie without taking his eyes off Scott and dropping the phone onto his lap.

That unstoppable curiosity shines through in his tone when he replies.

"Well.. yeah, obviously."

"... Okay, but just, please keep an open mind, and let me finish talking before you say anything."

Stiles nods and remains obediently silent.

Scott takes a deep breath.

".... I think that I have time-traveled into the past someho-"

Scott lets out a sigh as Stiles snickers obnoxiously.

"No no, please continue."

Stiles struggles to school his features back into passivity as Scott starts speaking once more.

"I am, as far as i can tell, three years into the pas-"

Scott rubs at the bridge of his nose as Stiles gives an outright guffaw.

"Oh go- no it's so good, heh- woow, okay."

Scott raises an unamused eyebrow and Stiles continues.

"No, really, I truly appreciate the amount of effort you're putting into your performance right now, all just to prank me."

Scott stares at him.

"When you were 13 years old and having a sleepover with your cousin, you knocked over his grandmother's urn."

Stiles flinches.

"Wh-.. what?!?"

Scott continues.

"When it happened, you whisper-screamed _"oh my god, I spilled grandma"_ and then Dust-Busted the ashes up and put them back in the urn."

Stiles' jaw drops open and he physically recoils slightly.

"I do- you-.. wha-.... _I've never told a single person about that."_

Scott nods in agreement.

"You haven't, not _yet."_

Stiles runs a hand over his closely-cropped hair and shakes his head a little.

"Okay man, i don't know how you found out about that, but-"

Scott puts all the grave seriousness he has into his voice.

_"Stiles. I am Not joking."_

Stiles watches him with wide, shocked eyes.

"This.. isn't funny anymore, Scotty..."

"I _swear_ to you, Stiles, look in my eyes and tell me I'm lying."

Stiles puts a hand over his mouth, and he's starting to look as frazzled as Scott feels.

His voice comes out slightly muffled from behind his hand, but Scott can still hear the somewhat horrified tone in the other boy's words.

"You're serious about this..."

It isn't said like a question, but Scott nods solemnly anyways.

Stiles scrubs his hand over his face and lets out a shell-shocked groan.

Scott digs his fingernails into his pants leg nervously for the few minutes that Stiles sits there in silence, wondering just exactly how crazy his best friend thinks he is now.

He swallows past the nervous feeling in his throat as Stiles starts to speak.

"So... how do you think this happened?"

Scott blinks, watching Stiles with surprised eyes.

"Uhh.. what?"

Stiles gestures at him vaguely.

"How did you get Doctor Who-ed??"

Scott opens and closes his mouth a few times as he tries to work out his answer.

"I... don't know. I just went to sleep in 2014 and then woke up in 2011."

Stiles winces sympathetically.

"Ooh eegh.. I can definitely see how that would make the whole time-travel thing more terrifying than awesome..."

The sheriff's son shakes his head with a grimace.

"This is crazy, man."

Scott nods and bites his lip, hesitating before he speaks again.

"The story gets crazier, Stiles..."

Stiles watches him with what looks like a combination of exasperation and befuddlement.

"Well... then don't keep me waiting, you tease. Spill it."

Scott's mouth drops open a little, the dark-haired boy feeling half horrified and half actually amused.

He settles in to tell a long, complicated story.

* * *

Stiles is staring at him with furrowed eyebrows and tightly sealed lips.

Scott can practically hear the gears turning in his friend's head.

"So... just to make sure I've got this all straight and didn't have any minor strokes through that.."

Stiles holds up a finger.

"Werewolves."

Scott nods.

Another finger joins the first.

"Banshees."

Scott nods again.

A third finger comes up.

"Maimed-witches wielding mistletoe and vengeful Japanese spirits."

Scott's nod is slightly more hesitant this time.

Stiles raises two more fingers and brings up his other hand to join.

"And a, please stop me if I get this one wrong, Nazi alpha werewolf/lion... with ghost rider powers."

Scott has the decency to look at least sort of ashamed.

"... well, of course it's gonna sound ridiculous when you say it like that."

Stiles gives a bewildered chuckle and rubs at the side of his temple.

"That's... wow, okay then."

".. do you believe me?"

Stiles watches Scott with a deeply searching gaze for a long moment.

"... yeah. I think.. I think I do."

Scott feels a flicker of hope for the first time since he woke today.

Stiles looks vaguely shocked at his own words, but he nods emphatically.

"It all sounds very SYFY at midnight, but.. I believe you."

Scott feels a heavy weight of worry lift off of his chest, letting out a relieved exhale.

Stiles rambles a little.

"Well, on second thought, all of that actually sounds like a better fit for The CW, but anyways."

Scott gives a tired snicker.

Stiles settles a hand on his friend's arm.

"Hey, I meant what I said about us handling what's bothering you. I had no friggin' idea that your problem involved were-panthers and time travel, but still... we'll figure out what's happening and get you back home, Scott. No matter what."

The loneliness and fear that has surrounded Scott for the entire day dissipates ever so slightly, and he wraps Stiles up in a tight hug.

Stiles pats the dark-haired boy on the back and gives an affectionate squeeze, determination in his tone.

"We'll fix it, I promise."

* * *

The sun falls past the horizon as they sit in Scott's room, Stiles asking questions about the future and getting answers than alternate between exciting him and horrifying him.

Stiles' voice takes on an unusually serious tone.

"What if.. we can't figure out how to get you back for a while? Do you want to try and, y'know, change anything?... save someone?"

That thought is one that's been hanging on the periphery of Scott's mind since he realized what was going on, but Stiles' question brings it slamming into the forefront of his brain.

It brings a painful memory with it.

_Alison in his arms, the color fading away from her skin as her blood pools on the ground beneath them._

Scott swallows past the lump in his throat, emotion and logic warring in his mind along with a heavy dose of confusion.

"I... I don't know, Stiles."

Stiles nods slowly, looking a little unsatisfied at the answer, but he goes back to asking easier questions.

Scott is positive that neither of them will be able to sleep, right up until his eyes close slowly as he listens to the sound of Stiles' soft snoring.

And that's how Melissa finds them when she gets home, curled up and passed out side-by-side on the bed.

She just smiles and fires off a quick text to Stiles' dad before she heads to bed herself.

* * *

The intense morning-fuzziness/apparent time-travel grogginess that Scott felt the day before hasn't vanished entirely, but he feels slightly less awful as he wakes this time.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Stiles watching him with an investigative expression as he lays beside him.

".... why are you watching me sleep?"

Stiles quirks an eyebrow.

"Just looking for signs of recent time-travel."

".. see any?"

"Well, I noticed you drooling a little, but I don't think that's related."

Scott wipes off his lip and drags himself out of bed.

* * *

He tries to call Deaton a couple more times, but it still goes straight to voicemail.

Scott rubs at the back of his neck with a frustrated sigh.

Stiles chews on his lip gently, eyeing Scott from his position in the chair he'd flopped into once he got out of bed.

"Why do you think he's not answering?"

"I have no idea. Which is just great, considering that he's the only person in my...."

"Supernatural rolodex?"

"In my supernatural rolodex that could possibly have any idea what's going on here."

Stiles winces.

"That's.. not good."

Scott nods worriedly.

"Understatement..."

They're both caught off guard when Melissa speaks from the doorway.

"Good morning, boys."

"Uh, hey mom."

"G'morning, Mrs. McCall."

She gives Scott an appraising once-over.

"Feeling better today?"

Scott ignores the queasy feeling he still gets from lying to his mother.

"Yeah, I'm doing a little better. But I still feel a bit iffy, so I think I'll take today to rest and just go back to school tomorrow."

Melissa hums in agreement.

"Okay then, I'll call the school and let them know you'll be back by tomorrow."

She throws a glance to Stiles.

"But there's nothing stopping _you_ from getting to school, if I'm right. Though whether or not you make it on time.."

Stiles grins and points out the window proudly to the jeep outside in the yard.

"Pfft, I'll make it with time to spare. I've got wheels of lightning."

Melissa raises an eyebrow.

"... I meant uh, wheels that obey the speed limit.."

She gives a satisfied nod and starts to walk off.

"Okay boys, have a good day. Scott, I'll bring home dinner!"

They hear the door open and shut after a moment, Scott waiting for the sound of his mom's car cranking before he speaks.

"Stiles, get your keys. It's time to go see Deaton."

* * *

Scott notices the white piece of paper taped to the clinic door as soon as they roll up in Stiles' jeep.

He gets out of the car and walks over to get a closer look, hearing the driver's door slam shut as Stiles hops out too.

_"Beacon Hills Animal Clinic will be closed temporarily. We are sorry for the inconvenience!"_

There's a list of other veterinary clinics in the area beneath the message, and Scott suddenly gets a flash of a half-forgotten memory.

"Oh no.."

Stiles speaks up from behind him.

"What? What's it say?"

Scott shakes his head softly.

"I remember why Deaton isn't here, and why he's not answering his phone."

He turns to face Stiles with a quiet groan of frustration.

"I'd forgotten, but Deaton said he was leaving town for a few days to go handle some family business, and knowing him, he could've left for any reason from actual family business to research on something supernatural, or.. hunting down an ancient herb, for all I know."

Stiles furrows his eyebrows with a confused look, but Scott continues.

"The point is, while he's away on this trip, his phone gets dropped and broken, and he doesn't get a replacement until he gets back into town, which won't be for at least a couple of days, so..."

Realization comes over Stiles' face.

"Ohh... shit."

Scott sighs tiredly.

"My thoughts exactly.."

Scott shivers in the chilly January air and absentmindely zips up the jacket he'd thrown on before they left.

Stiles stuffs his fidgeting hands into his pockets.

"So.. what do we do now? Aside from waiting and twiddling our thumbs, that is."

Scott looks out over the empty parking lot, letting his gaze drift as he thinks.

After a few seconds, he speaks.

"You were right, Stiles."

The sheriff's son gives an unsure hum.

"Uh, I usually am, but.. please elaborate."

Scott runs a hand through his messy hair.

"I can't just sit around and let people die if there's a chance that I can change things. So.. I know what our next stop is."

Determination shows in Scott's eyes.

"We have to save Laura Hale."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smash cut to black, Teen Wolf ending theme plays*
> 
> I'm really enjoying writing this story so far, and seeing everything ramp up in intensity and watching the pieces all fall into place should be so fun... 😊 I hope you all had a great day.
> 
> I love hearing what y'alls favourite lines and moments were, so lemme know in a comment if you have a free minute ❤


	3. The fortune teller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Stay warm and safe out there <3

Even though Scott gives Stiles thorough directions, they still take a wrong turn somewhere and have to double back at one point, but they've finally made it to their destination.

Fallen leaves and small sticks crunch under the jeep's tires as they pull up in front of the burnt remains of the Hale house.

Stiles puts it in park and leans forward to look at the house through the windshield.

"An old abandoned house, deep in the woods, in the middle of nowhere.."

He drums his fingers along the steering wheel nervously.

"I always had a feeling I'd die this way."

Stiles nods to himself and shoots a cautious look into the deep, barren forest.

Scott wants to reassure him, to promise Stiles that he'll protect him and keep him safe no matter what. But..

He clenches his fist at the reminder of just how helpless he is in his current state.

'I haven't felt this fragile in such a long time..'

Scott turns to look at his friend and injects as much confidence as he's able to into his voice.

"Hey, it'll be alright. I didn't get a chance to know Laura personally before, but if she's anything like her brother, we should be fine.."

Stiles gives the house another wary glance.

"And if she takes after her murderous uncle instead?"

Scott nods hesitantly.

"Then... we might be screwed."

A sardonic smile grows on Stiles' face.

"I like those odds."

Scott settles his fingers on the door handle.

"By the way, I.. may have to fudge some details to get her to believe us, so whatever I say, please just go with it."

Scott breathes out a steady exhale and opens the jeep door, stepping out.

He walks towards the porch, throwing a glance at what he assumes is Laura's car parked beside the house.

Stiles trails behind him cautiously.

Scott makes his way up the steps and stands in front of the door, hesitating for only a short moment before he raps his knuckles against the wood.

"Laura! Laura Hale! My name is Scott McCall, we.. we need to talk."

He knows the shouting is unnecessary for her to hear him, but he doesn't want to make her any more cautious towards him than she already is by acting strangely.

Everything stays quiet, with just the soft chirping of a few birds to break up the silence.

After a couple minutes, Stiles pipes up from beside him.

"Well, maybe she's off bounding through the woods, chasing some rabbits."

The door creaks open a few seconds later, and Scott allows himself a moment of shock at the sight of an alive Laura Hale, a woman he's only seen before as (half of) a corpse.

Scott doesn't miss the annoyed glance that Laura gives Stiles before she speaks.

"Aren't you two a little old to be selling girl-scout cookies?"

Scott opens his mouth to speak, but Stiles beats him to the punch.

"Well, you're only as old as you feel, and we're both wildly immature, so."

He gives Stiles a pleading look, and the gaze that Laura levels at them both is distinctly unimpressed.

"I can see that."

Scott suppresses an exasperated groan.

"Miss Hale, we're not here to bother you.. we're here to warn you."

Her eyes narrow slightly, suspicious.

"Oh?"

Scott reminds himself to be careful about what exactly he says to her, but decides to get straight to the point.

"I.. I know what you are. And I know about werewolves, and hunters, and a whole lot more. But most importantly, I know that someone is going to try and kill you."

Laura's jaw is clenched tight as she stares Scott down with measuring eyes.

She watches him for a long, tense moment.

"Werewolves, huh? Well... you look a little too old for bedtime stories, too."

The door is slammed shut emphatically before Scott can say anything else.

He lets out a quiet sigh and thinks over what he could possibly say to convince her.

"I'm.. a friend of Deaton's, okay! I know that he's the one who called you here in the first place, because of the deer and the symbol burned into it!"

The dark-haired boy waits patiently for a few moments, but no response is given.

He feels faint frustration beginning to bubble up in his chest.

Scott speaks as if she's still stood right in front of him, dropping all pretenses now.

"Look, I know you don't have any reason to believe me, but someone is coming after you, and if you're not careful, they will kil-"

He barely has time to notice the sound of fast and heavy footsteps across the floor before the door is swung open and powerful fingers wrap around his throat.

Scott chokes and tries to yank away, but Laura's grip is unyielding.

Her irises are glowing bright-red and a primal part of Scott's brain starts screaming at him, instinctual alarms blaring wildly.

"Scott!!"

Stiles' panicked shout rings out, and he rushes forwards.

Scott throws out a desperate arm to stop him from advancing any further.

Worry and confusion flood Stiles' tone.

"Scott??"

The dark-haired boy shakes his head minutely, as best as he's able to with Laura's tight grip on his neck.

Laura's face is still calmly blank, but Scott can see the simmering anger in her eyes.

Scott focuses on trying to choke out the words he knows he needs to say.

"I'm a-.. friend... no- not an.. enemy. I-... I swear!!"

Laura squeezes.

" _Where_ did you learn what you know?"

Scott's mind is working in panicked overtime to figure out the right answer that he needs to use, struggling to stay conscious.

"..i know-..a. Ban- ...shee."

Something like realisation seems to click in Laura's eyes, and after a few more seconds of Scott struggling to stay conscious with restricted oxygen, she loosens her grip and he falls to the floor of the porch, gasping and coughing.

Stiles drops to his knees beside him, running his hand softly over Scott's back as he catches his breath.

The look that Stiles sends at Laura is half fright and half anger.

Scott pulls the inhaler out of his pocket with shaky fingers, bringing it to his lips and mashing the button desperately.

Laura sinks into a crouch, eyeing Scott's disheveled form intensely.

Her irises have finally stopped glowing red, returning to their usual hazel color.

"Alright then, Scott McCall. Catch your breath quickly, because you're about to give a thorough and detailed explanation of everything you know."

* * *

Scott touches at his throat gingerly.

"I really hope that didn't leave a mark, because this would be a very interesting bruise to explain.."

Stiles hasn't taken his eyes off Laura since she invited (practically dragged) them inside the house.

He's still watching her closely from across the room as she replies sarcastically.

"Thank goodness it's scarf weather."

Scott rolls his eyes slightly at the familiar droll Hale humor, bumping his foot against Stiles' leg gently to get his attention.

"Hey. You alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, just..."

He turns to look at Scott with wide eyes, keeping his voice hushed as he speaks.

"She's a _real, live werewolf._ Like, I was 99 percent sure that you were telling the truth, but there was one lone percent going "maybe he just had an aneurysm and dreamed it all.".. but that was the real deal, fangs and all."

Stiles lets out a shocked exhale.

"I'm _very_ convinced now.."

They both miss Laura's slight smirk, but she smooths her face out into something more neutral before she speaks.

"Well? I'm waiting, patiently, for the explanation I asked for.."

Scott ignores the soreness of his throat as he starts talking.

"It's like I said, I know a Banshee. And Deaton really is my friend, that was true, too."

Laura crosses her arms.

"If you're his friend, a close-enough one that he decided to tell you the reason why I'm here, why haven't I heard him make even a faint mention of you?"

Scott shrugs.

"Does Deaton really seem like a Chatty-Cathy type to you? Unless we're talking about a different vague, mysterious guy.."

She taps her finger on her forearm.

"... hmph. Okay, maybe you actually do know him after all.."

Laura walks a few steps closer.

"Then.. what did this Banshee friend of yours see? What lead you to me?"

"She saw a female, alpha werewolf being attacked in the woods, and an old, badly burnt house. It wasn't that hard to figure out what those added up to."

The Hale Alpha glances to the scorched walls of the house.

Laura makes a considering hum, then looks him in the eyes.

".. who's going to try and kill me?"

Scott dreads the reaction these words will elicit, but he forces himself to speak.

"... your uncle, Peter."

The change in her expression and tone is instantaneous.

"Bullshit."

The anger is clear on her features.

Scott keeps his voice calm.

"He wants to kill you so that he can become alpha, and take revenge on whoever murdered your family. It's the truth, listen to my heartbeat."

She watches him with suspicion for a long minute, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

"You're either an excellent liar, or you're crazy."

"You don't have to take my word on it. We can go see your uncle together, and I'll _show_ you."

Laura settles her hands on her hips with a disbelieving grimace.

After a moment of hesitant consideration, she lets out a short sigh.

".. If you're wasting my time and lying about my uncle..."

The warning is unspoken, but very apparent.

Scott nods gravely.

"I'm not, but I understand."

She looks him over once more and scoffs, turning around and walking towards the door.

Laura snatches a leather coat off of the floor, pulling it on with an annoyed wince.

She aims an impatient look at Scott and Stiles.

"Well? Let's get this little field-trip over with."

Scott shares a cautiously curious look with his best friend, and then they follow Laura to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We never got to see or hear much at all from Laura in the show, so I'm happy to get her in action here 😁 I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I'm liking writing it 🤗 thank you so much for the kudos and the comments, they drive me. I love hearing any plot questions or curiosities y'all have, and hearing about any of your fave lines and moments ❤ lemme know in a comment if you have a free minute. Also, I'm on tumblr and Twitter under the same name 👋


	4. As they say, let sleeping wolves lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finishes typing furiously like a madman, presents this chapter with a harried smile*
> 
> I hope you all had a good day, stay safe out there <3

The jeep slows to a stop in the parking lot of the Beacons Crossing Home care facility, Stiles shutting off the engine.

Scott feels the nervously unsettled shiver running up his neck at the Deja Vu-inducing sight of the nursing home.

He shakes his head softly.

'My whole life is Deja Vu right now..'

Stiles clears his throat.

"So, um.. I know they say there is no such thing as bad ideas, just badly executed ones, but... wow, this seems like an _epically Bad idea."_

Scott bites his lip anxiously, shifting in his seat.

"Trust me, I know..."

Going up against Peter would've been concerning enough _with_ his abilities, but _without_ them?

And Scott has already been painfully reminded by Laura's unbreakable grip that he is entirely human again.

At that thought, he glances over to the alpha stepping out of her own car beside them.

"That being said, though Peter may be feeling particularly murderous towards us in about 10 minutes, he's probably going to want to kill her even more, so... as they say, the enemy of my enemy.."

Stiles sighs quietly.

"If you say so, Sun Tzu."

Laura gives an impatient shrug, raising her eyebrows at them through the windshield.

Scott and Stiles both send out a silent prayer for luck as they step out of the jeep.

* * *

They make it past the front desk without being noticed and head towards Peter's room, but Scott stops them with a hushed "hey!" as they pass by the medical supply closet.

Laura matches his tone, snapping out a "What?" after they come to a halt.

Scott points to the supply closet door.

"Get this door open for me."

"... do I look like a locksmith to you?"

Scott's tone turns pleading.

"Please?"

Laura rolls her eyes and gives a cursory glance over her shoulder to look for any staff or security, reaching over and giving the door handle a sharp, strong jerk.

Scott hears the distinct crunch of metal as the lock breaks, slipping inside after the door creaks open.

He hurriedly scans his eyes over the metal racks holding bottles of medicine, snagging the first powerful sedative with a name he recognizes (perk of having a mother who's a nurse)

Then he grabs the biggest syringe he sees, tearing open the plastic and pulling it out.

He jabs the needle into the top of the bottle, pulling back on the plunger and filling the syringe with as much sedative as it can hold.

Stiles whispers from the doorway.

"What are you doing?? Hurry!"

Scott sits the bottle back in its place, replying as he walks towards the door.

"I got sedative.."

Dry sarcasm fills Laura's tone when she speaks.

"You do realize there's no sedative in there that's strong enough to take down a wer- _oh."_

Her eyes widen a little at the sight of the huge needle filled to the brim with tranquilizer.

Stiles' expression is impressed.

"... god, that looks like a turkey baster."

Scott gives a short hum in agreement.

"Let's just hope it's enough.. alright, c'mon."

* * *

The three of them manage to make it to Peter's room without arousing any suspicion.

Laura closes the door behind them with a soft click, reaching over to close the blinds on the window into the room before she turns around to take a look at her uncle.

A deep pang of emotion claws its way up into her chest at the sight of his burnt and scarred flesh, at the eyes that once looked at her with love and amusement turned to blank, empty voids.

She ignores the pained throb in her heart, and the memories that come with it, turning to Scott with agitation etched on her features.

"Well, I'll be damned, you were right. I've never seen a more lethal creature in my life.."

Scott just gives Peter a knowingly wary stare.

"He might not look it, but I'm telling you... he's dangerous."

Scott slides his thumb over the needle held in his palm and concealed by the sleeve of his jacket.

He walks closer to Peter with slow steps, Stiles staying back by a couple more feet at a safer distance.

Laura fixes a derisive look on Scott.

"Look, your banshee friend was clearly wrong, so how about we put a stop to this nonsense already."

Scott stops beside Peter's wheelchair, feeling his heart rate speed up as adrenaline starts coursing through him.

He's reminded of every time he's come face to face in deadly fights with Peter, every threat he's made against Scott's pack and family.

'You really did seem like you'd changed into a decent man eventually.. and maybe one day, you can change again. But right now, you're consumed by hate, and I know you would hurt my friends if you had the chance... I won't let that happen.'

Scott's expression is grave when he turns to look at Laura.

"Get ready."

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Ready for wha-"

Laura's words cut off suddenly as she hears Peter's heartbeat speed up.

Scott grips the syringe tightly and drives it towards Peter's neck.

His hand is stopped inches from its target, a crushing grip locked on Scott's wrist.

A pained wheeze is forced out of Scott's throat as Peter's hand tightens, and Stiles throws himself forward.

"Sco- agh!!"

His shout trails off into a panicked gurgle as Peter's hand wraps around his throat.

The older man stands up out of the wheelchair, and Laura snaps out of her momentarily thunderstruck stupor, charging forward and grabbing onto both of his arms.

She digs her fingers into his arms tightly in an effort to make him let go of his grip on Scott and Stiles.

"Peter! What are you doi-"

He drives his head into her face and she staggers back a step, tasting blood as it leaks out of her nose and drips onto her lips.

Peter lets go of the boys, lunging forwards at Laura.

His weight slams into her and she stumbles back, falling onto the floor with a painful smack as Peter lands on top of her.

He gets his knees underneath himself for leverage and shoots a hand towards Laura's head.

She catches him by the forearm, stopping the sharp claws inches away from her face.

Peter swings another hand around at her neck, but Laura stops it just before the claws slash her throat.

Her arms shake from the strain of holding back Peter's claw-studded hands.

Confused desperation rattles her voice.

_"Uncle Peter!! Please.. stop!!"_

He gives an enraged growl, his eyes glowing icy blue.

She feels fear choking her from the inside out, but she pushes it down with a furious snarl of her own as her irises light up in bright red.

Her arms stabilize and she drags Peter's hands away from her eyes and throat.

Peter gives a desperate grunt of effort as he tries to overpower her again, but Scott slams into his back and stabs the needle into his neck.

Scott barely manages to push down the plunger and inject the sedative before Peter reaches up and snatches the syringe out, driving an elbow into Scott's ribs and knocking the boy off of him.

Laura capitalizes on the brief distraction and throws her legs up around Peter's head and shoulders, yanking hard on his arm and squeezing her legs tightly to cut off his oxygen.

Peter thrashes wildly in the hold, reaching his free hand up to slash the side of Laura's stomach.

She fights back a scream as his claws slice into her flesh.

Scott grabs onto Peter's hand and drives his feet into the man's side, letting out a strained grunt as he pulls back with everything he has to get the claws away from Laura.

Stiles takes hold of Peter's legs and desperately drags backwards to flatten him out, taking away the last dregs of his leverage.

After a long several seconds, Peter's thrashing slows, the lack of oxygen and sedative taking effect on him.

Laura keeps the hold locked in tight even as the blue fades from his eyes and his claws retract, settling into stillness as he loses consciousness.

After a moment, she loosens her legs and jams a boot into his shoulder, pushing him off of her and onto the floor with a thud.

She drags herself up to a sitting position against the wall, clutching at her bleeding side and breathing heavy.

Stiles and Scott have slumped onto the floor too, touching gingerly at a sore throat and bruised ribs, respectively.

Stiles takes in a wheezy breath.

"What is it with you Hales and choking people??"

He shakes his head with a wince.

"I mean, I'm not one to kink-shame, but c'mon.."

Laura ignores him, breathing out a shocked _"what in the fuck"_ as she stares at her uncle's unconscious body.

She turns her distressed gaze to Scott.

"You... were right.."

Scott's expression goes solemn.

"I'm sorry."

There's a few seconds of tense silence before Stiles speaks.

"Well.. what do we do now? There's no telling when Freddy Krueger's less polite half-brother down there will wake up."

Scott nods, keeping a hand held over his bruised ribs.

"We gotta get him out of here."

Laura pulls her hand away from her bloody stomach.

"Well, I don't think the staff will appreciate us carrying him out like he's old luggage."

She stares at Peter's limp form for a few seconds, then glances at Scott and Stiles.

".. can you two make a distraction?"

Scott and Stiles share a knowing look.

Stiles drags himself to his feet and offers Scott a hand.

"Oh yeah, we can _definitely_ do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First blood has been spilled... but not the last of it, not by a long shot....
> 
> Thank you all so much for the awesome comments and kudos, they mean the world to me ❤


	5. Hale family values

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *finishes typing in a composed fashion, presents chapter happily*
> 
> Stay safe and wonderful out there! <3

Scott and Stiles stand beside each other at the window, peeking out of the blinds into the hallway outside.

Scott turns a nervous glance over his shoulder at Laura as she kneels next to Peter's unconscious body.

Laura notices his worried look and gives a reassuring nod.

The dark-haired boy turns back to looking out the window.

"So.. what are you thinking? Chuck E. Cheese Blitz?"

Stiles gives a contemplative hum.

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of a Wal-Mart Special."

Scott cringes.

"Oh god, that one? Really??"

Stiles almost sounds pleading.

"Ah, but it's so effective, though.."

Scott lets out a long-suffering sigh.

"... okay, let's do it."

* * *

Scott's arm is draped over Stiles' shoulder as they stumble into the waiting room of the nursing home.

Scott gives a desperate expression and touches at his throat, wincing when Stiles shouts right beside his ear.

"Help!! My friend can't breathe, please, someone help!!"

Scott keels over slowly, Stiles helping ease him along to the ground gently.

"Oh god, he's dying! My best friend is _dying,_ why won't anyone help!?!"

Stiles lets out a horrified wail, and Scott whispers up at him discreetly in between wheezing gasps.

"Reign it in, Pacino."

Several staff members rush over, and Stiles' sobs become slightly less theatrical.

After a few minutes of pulse-checking and gazing into the dark-haired boy's mouth with flashlights (the Sheriff's son and his best friend's eyes both go wide when one of the staff suggests "cutting open the airway") Scott manages to make a miraculous recovery (hallelujah) before he and Stiles slip away out the door after the staff start rushing around hurriedly at the mention of a "code red" over the intercom, which Scott and Stiles rightfully assume means "missing patient".

* * *

Consciousness returns to Peter slowly, piece by piece.

He realizes after a moment that his eyes are actually open, but he can't make anything out through his blurry vision.

It takes a couple of minutes, but his sight finally clears.

He recognizes the burnt remains of an old room in his family house almost instantly.

Something along the lines of disgust and rage twist in his guts (and a little fear too, but he'd die before he admitted that to anyone but himself)

He jerks forward in an attempt to move, but he barely shifts an inch.

That's when he notices the heavy chains wrapped tightly around his chest and arms, keeping him secured to the sturdy wooden chair that he's sat in.

And he gets the sneaking suspicion that the rope that's stinging his wrists and ankles is coated with wolfsbane.

Peter gives a sharp yank to the side, but the chair doesn't budge.

He's able to crane his neck just enough to see that the chair has been bolted to the floor.

A frustrated sigh leaves his mouth, and that's when Laura speaks up from right outside the doorway.

"You comfy?"

Confusion laces his tone.

"Laura? What's going on?"

She hasn't had a chance to change her shirt since they got back from the care facility, and the bloody claw marks are easily visible on her side as she steps further into the room.

Shock passes over Peter's features.

"Did.. did I do that?"

Laura's piercing glare doesn't soften in the slightest.

"Do I really look like that much of a fool to you?"

"I'm so sorry, Laura, I just- I lost control, I didn't know what was happeni-"

Her words cut him off with quiet intensity.

"Drop the innocent act.. It doesn't suit you."

Her fist clenches tightly, pained sadness seeping into her voice.

"I saw the look in your eyes... you knew exactly who I was, and yet you tried to slaughter me anyways. Your own blood. Your family."

Peter breaks eye-contact with her, turning his gaze off to the side as a slight inkling of guilt stings at the back of his throat.

She shakes her head scornfully.

"If my mother could see you now, she'd be just as disgusted as I am.."

Peter feels his patience snap like a thin piece of glass, enraged offense bubbling up in his throat.

_"How fucking dare you!! If your mother would be disgusted with anyone in this room, it's you!"_

The words are spat out with hateful spite, and Laura's eyes widen slightly from the sudden snap.

Peter's scarred face twists in fury.

"Our _blood,_ our _family,_ was murdered and turned to ash six years ago. And what did you do, prodigal daughter, wise future leader? You _ran."_

A malicious chuckle crawls out of his throat.

"You ran, with your tail tucked between your legs, and you didn't look back. It's been _six years,_ and you haven't made the slightest attempt to get justice for what was done. You haven't even tried to build a new pack.."

Her eyes flash red as an incensed growl rumbles in her chest.

Peter's lip curls up in a condescending smirk.

"Despite what everyone used to say, when they looked at you and fawned... you're not half of the woman that your mother was."

Laura feels her confidence crack as hurt stabs into her at those words.

The hurt flashes across her face, and Peter's smirk turns into a cruel smile.

"So yeah.. you're right. I wanted to kill you, and take away the power that you don't deserve, so that after all these years, I could finally avenge my family."

Laura looks away from the hatefully taunting features of his scarred face, his twisted visage like a burnt list of all her failures.

Her voice is steady when she speaks, confident with the knowledge that her words are the truth.

"If I thought at any point that I could've gotten them the justice they deserved, I wouldn't have hesitated for a single heartbeat."

She turns to walk away, and Peter thrashes against the chains.

" _Go ahead and run away, Laura!_ I won't be going anywhere.. I am a reminder, a scorched mark that's _been carved into the earth!"_

She walks down the burnt hallway of her home with Peter's enraged screams echoing behind her, desperately trying to ignore the shame and guilt swirling in her mind.

* * *

Scott and Stiles each have a phone pressed to their ear as they stand outside the Hale house, the sun beginning to drop past the horizon as they talk.

"Yeah mom, we're fine, we just decided to go hang out at the mall for a little while."

"It's like I said, Scotty has been feeling sickly and I'm out here cheering him up, dad."

"Yes, kids still go hangout at the mall, ma."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I am a very uplifting presence. Look, I gotta go, dad. I'll get Scott home safely, trust me. Okay, bye."

"Chinese for dinner sounds great to me. Of course, I'll be home soon. Bye-bye, mom."

They both let out quiet exhales of relief, Stiles stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

"Well, I doubt they'll find many discrepancies if they decide to compare notes.."

Scott nods in agreement, and there's a moment of silence before the door creaks open and Laura steps onto the porch, both of the boys turning to face her.

She stands there for a moment, glancing at Scott and trying to figure out what she wants to say.

"Well... you were right about everything you said."

Sympathy bleeds into Scott's expression.

".. I wish I could've been wrong."

Laura runs a hand through her dark hair, a bleak sigh slipping past her lips.

"I do, too."

Scott looks away to the darkening horizon, taking a few seconds to consider his words.

"... what comes next?"

Laura settles her thumbs into the pockets of her pants as she thinks over her plan.

"Well, I'll call my brother, tell him what's happened, and that I need him to get to Beacon Hills."

Scott bobs his head in understanding, but Laura continues.

"And I really need to speak to Deaton when he gets back, too. If you hear from him before I do, let him know that I want to talk to him."

Scott barely manages to keep his heart rate steady at the mention of that very problematic prospect.

'If she talks to Deaton before i have a chance to explain what's going on here...'

Scott smiles in spite of his internal panic.

"I'll let him know."

Laura nods.

"Good."

Scott waits for a few more seconds, looking over at Stiles and jerking his head towards the jeep once it seems like she's entirely done speaking.

They've only walked a few feet away when Laura's hesitant "..Hey" stops them in their tracks.

They turn to face her again, and she looks at both of them as she speaks, earnest gratitude in her voice.

"Thank you. For... saving my life, I guess.."

Dual grins grow on Scott and Stiles' faces.

"No problemo, ma'am."

"We were happy to help, miss Hale."

She returns the smile, but it turns into an awkward grimace and she turns and walks back into the house.

Scott snorts as the door shuts, Stiles' voice drifting out amusedly.

"What an affectionate family..."

Scott turns to face him.

"Just wait 'till you meet her brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun writing this so far! I'll have the next update out in two days 🤗 I'm a simple writer who's sustenance consists of comments and kudos, please feed me


	6. "a damned good day"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs around desperately, gathering up pages, putting them into a messy stack and presenting them*
> 
> I hope you all had a good day 😊

Scott leans his head against the passenger-side window of the jeep tiredly, his eyes being tempted to close by the steady movement of the car driving along the road and the soft retro-pop song drifting through the speakers.

"Hey, don't go to sleep on me yet, buddy. We're not too far away from home and I'm not entirely sure of my ability to carry your unconscious body to bed."

Scott forces his eyes to open wider after Stiles speaks, watching the brightly-lit street lamps pass them by as they drive through town.

He rubs at the bridge of his nose and lets out a sleepy groan.

"It's been a long day.."

Stiles raises his eyebrows and gives a short, failed attempt at a whistle.

"You can say that again. But hey, look at it this way: we saved a life today. If it wasn't for us, Laura's head, or waist, I guess, would've been on the chopping block soon."

Stiles almost misses a turn and slams on the brakes slightly, twisting the wheel and turning onto the road.

"And y'know, considering how murder-happy you said her uncle eventually got, we actually saved _several_ lives today. And, speaking of said murderous uncle, we were accessories to our first kidnapping today, too."

Stiles sounds entirely too proud about that last part, and Scott can't stop the snicker that comes out of his mouth.

"So, yeah.. that sounds like a damned good day to me."

"I hadn't looked at it that way, Stiles, thank you."

He lets out an amused smile, but Scott does feel satisfaction settle into his chest at the thought that Laura is safer because of their help.

His mind goes off in another direction after he thinks of the Hale alpha, remembering her words about Deaton before they'd left.

Scott knows that he could count on Deaton when it mattered, but as far as the Vet was concerned at the moment, Scott is still just a perfectly average, non-supernatural sixteen year old boy who worked at his clinic, and if Laura asked the former pack-emissary to verify the lies that Scott had spun to get her to accept his help...

'.. I don't want to risk losing the small bit of trust that I've earned with Laura.. I _can't_ risk it, not with everything that's on the line.'

Concern comes over Scott's features, and after a moment of consideration, he pops open the jeep's glove box and snags an old flyer for some local pizza place and grabs a scuffed looking pen.

He turns over the flyer and starts writing on its blank side, his voice drifting out distractedly.

"Hey Stiles, make a quick stop by the animal clinic before you take me home.."

* * *

Sunlight shines through Scott's closed eyelid, and the dark-haired boy lifts his head off of his pillow and turns away from the bright morning-glow coming through his window with a half-conscious grumble.

He tries to shift his body into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he stops suddenly as pain radiates out from his bruised ribs.

Scott settles back into stillness with a pained grimace.

He lifts his right arm to inspect it, resigned-annoyance on his face when he sees the hand-shaped bruise on his wrist (thank you, Peter)

Scott drags his fingers across his throat gently, wondering if there's a darkened silhouette of fingers there to match...

A worried thought drifts across his mind.

'And Laura did that when she didn't even really have a reason to be mad at me...'

His voice comes out in a sleepy croak, speaking as if Deaton is there in the room.

"Please find the note I left before you talk to her..."

Scott rolls onto his back, wincing as his ribs protest the movement.

He takes a curious look around the room that both _is_ his and _isn't_ his, things that he remembers getting broken or thrown away lining various spots in each corner of the bedroom.

Scott is reminded suddenly of how much he's changed since he was given a sharp and sudden introduction to the supernatural side of the world.

'Before all of this, I hadn't ever had to fight for my life, fight for my friend's lives.. I hadn't ever feared myself and what I was capable of.. I hadn't ever... been in love.'

He thinks of Alison and her joyful smile, her loving gaze that felt warmer than the sun when it was directed at him, her confident resolve and the unwavering strength she fought for her friends with.

_'Right up until that strength got her killed',_ whispers a grim section of his mind.

'That won't happen again. I _will not_ let it happen.'

He clenches his fist and thinks about every danger that lurks on this path.

Scott had gone through this part of his life confused and unsure the first time, diving headfirst into the unknown.

But now.. he knows every challenge that awaits him, and exactly how difficult and horrifying each one will be.

Scott isn't sure if that's going to make facing it all better... or worse.

* * *

Scott extricates himself out of bed gingerly, taking a quick shower and pulling on a long-sleeved shirt that'll serve the dual purpose of keeping him warm and hiding his bruises (though his throat remains surprisingly unmarked, he notes with no small amount of relief)

He shares a brief but tight hug with his mother before she leaves for work, and then devours a few bowls of cereal to settle his empty stomach while he waits for Stiles.

Scott hears the familiar honk of the jeep's horn outside, and he takes a steadying breath before he walks out the door.

* * *

He spends a solid five minutes trying to work out the equations on the algebra test in front of him before the thought of _'Seriously, when in the hell am I ever going to need to know what a Pythagorean Triangle is???'_ and decides he has _much_ more important things to think about. 

Scott fills in a few questions with answers that he knows are probably wrong and sets his pen down definitively.

Worrying about his grades while also grappling with the fact that he's a former (soon to be?) werewolf who has somehow time-traveled into the past felt like adding a tiny bit too much to his metaphorical plate, which has already been stacked high with All You Can Eat buffet-sized portions.

That particular train of thought pulls his brain into knots, like a violently-twisted pretzel, so Scott settles his forearms on the table and tries to relax his mind.

Normally, in the classroom where he could hear every student's heartbeat, whisper, and nervously tapped foot wasn't exactly the best location for him to find peaceful self-reflection.

But after having his hearing and all four of his other senses dulled, he found that the room was calmly quiet, without creeping into deafening silence.

He takes the oppurtinuty to think, and to plan.

* * *

Scott knew somewhere in his mind that seeing younger versions of his friends would continue to be five kinds of weird, but a stare is forced out of him as he and Stiles pass by a cafeteria table and see a Barbie Doll-esque Lydia touching up her eyelashes.

She notices his stare and raises a derisively-questioning eyebrow, shutting her makeup mirror pointedly.

His eyes pass over Jackson, who's sat bedside her and aiming a smarmy sneer their way.

Scott lets his voice drift out after he's sure they're not in earshot anymore.

".. wow, I had forgotten how much I wanted to punch him in the face."

Shock comes over Stiles' features.

"Damn, you must've been dealing with some seriously high-level unpleasantness to forget _that_ amount of ass-itude."

They slow to a stop by their regular table, Stiles continuing as he sits down.

"Well, I restrained myself the other day so as to not panic you with too many future-related questions, but.. Lydia and I totally get together, right?"

Scott sets down his tray of food, opening his mouth to reply, but that's when he spots Isaac at another table across the room.

The sight of the other boy stops him in his tracks, the memory of the last time he saw him flashing by through his mind.

Scott hasn't seen him since.. _Alison._ Since Isaac left for France and never came back.

He'd heard his voice on the semi-regular calls Isaac made to make sure they were all staying alive and un-bisected, and Isaac sent them pictures from France sometimes, but Isaac himself was never in any of them..

There are other people occupying the table that he's sat at, but Isaac isn't actually conversing with or acknowledging any of them.

Scott thinks that even though Isaac isn't technically alone, he seems lonely, and that's a feeling that Scott has become painfully familiar with over the last couple of days.

Stiles doesn't seem to mind too much that Scott hasn't answered his question, mumbling out a confident "our babies are gonna be adorable" to himself.

Stiles only snaps out of his reverie when Scott picks up his tray of food, the dark-haired boy letting out a "c'mon" and giving Stiles the McCall Gaze Of Determination.

Stiles' mouth drops open slightly as Scott starts walking towards the other table.

"He-.. Scott, where are you going? What is this?? ... you know how I feel about change, Scott."

Scott pauses next to Isaac's table. It takes the other boy a few seconds to look up and notice him, mild confusion passing over his face as he does.

Scott smiles brightly.

"Hi! Is it okay if we sit here?"

Stiles shuffles up beside Scott, looking slightly put-out.

Isaac watches the pair of them closely, giving them a curiously perplexed look.

"... um, sure, that's fine."

Scott nods happily and sits down in the seat across from Isaac, Stiles settling into the seat beside it.

The dark-haired boy points to himself.

"I'm Scott McCall. This is my friend Stiles."

Isaac gives a nod, gesturing to himself after a moment.

"I'm Isaac Lahey."

Stiles furrows his eyebrows.

"Lahey? Aren't you related to that swim coach?"

An imperceptible look comes over Isaac's face for a brief second, but he answers calmly.

"Yep.. that's my dad."

Stiles, always more perceptive than he'd been given credit for, seems to notice he's hit a nerve and steers the conversation to different topics after that.

Scott chimes in here and there, but mostly he enjoys listening to the two of his friends talking. It feels... normal, a feeling that Scott hasn't gotten much of lately.

Isaac is a little more quiet and reserved than he remembers him being, and Scott isn't sure if that's indicative of the fact that he did techinally just meet Scott and Stiles for the first time, or if it shows just how much Isaac changed in the time they knew him.

Either way, Isaac seems generally entertained and intrigued by their company, chatting with them right up until they all stand and get ready for their next class.

Isaac gives a slightly unsure wave before he walks off, and Scott hears Stiles' considering tone beside him.

"He's a little quiet, but.. I like him."

Scott turns to his best friend with a smile.

"Me too."

They head off towards class, and Scott catches a glimpse of Erica moving through the crowd.

He sends a friendly wave her way, and though a somewhat bewildered look crosses her features, she returns it after a moment, hand waving back shyly.

Scott makes a mental note to ask her to join them for lunch tomorrow.

* * *

They run into Isaac again by their lockers as school finishes for the day. Scott waves and Stiles throws up a decidedly cheesy-looking pair of finger guns.

"Hey Isaac, long time no see!"

Isaac shoots them a look that says he definitively believes they're both a little crazy (and Scott is willing to admit, he _is_ kinda right) but he returns the wave and chats lightly with them about their classes as he puts some books away into his locker.

He's got a firm grip on the small stack of textbooks in his hands, but a student walking by twists out of the way to avoid knocking into someone, and the books in Isaac's hands spill onto the floor after an elbow is bumped into his shoulder.

Isaac gives a restrained gasp of pain at the moment his shoulder is touched, and the other student mumbles out an apology before he walks off.

Scott and Stiles lower to the ground as Isaac does, gathering the books off of the floor.

Scott watches the other boy closely. That bump hadn't looked like enough to cause damage by any means, but..

Isaac leans over and reaches out to grab a book that had slid farther away than the rest, and Scott can just barely see the edges of a dark bruise on the boy's shoulder peaking out from underneath the neck of his shirt.

Scott feels a spark of anger deep in his chest, and he keeps his face carefully neutral as Isaac leans back in with the retrieved book, taking back the others in Scott and Stiles' offered hands.

Isaac says an awkward "thanks" as they all stand up, stuffing the books in his locker quickly and moving towards the door at the end of the hall.

Scott and Isaac are both quiet as they walk outside, Stiles chattering away to fill the silence.

They slow to a stop on the sidewalk as a couple of cars pass by.

Scott desperately tries to think up a way to keep Isaac from going home to his father, where more bruises and possibly worse than that awaits him.

"So, um... do you feel like going to hang out anywhere, Isaac? You could uh, even come over to my house for dinner. My mom is cooking chicken, I'm sure there'll be plenty for a guest."

Isaac shakes his head softly, a bleakly resigned look settling on his face.

"Nah, sorry... I'm supposed to be home before late."

A somewhat dejected "Ahh" slips out of Scott's mouth, and he isn't really sure of what to say next.

Stiles gets the feeling he's missing something about this oddly tense moment, and decides to stay quiet.

After a long moment, Isaac speaks up with a small glimmer of hope in his tone.

"But uh... if that invitation is still open, maybe next time?"

Scott pushes down the feeling of helpless melancholy in his chest, smiling warmly at the other boy.

"That sounds great. You're welcome any time."

For the first time that day, a wide and genuinely happy smile blooms on Isaac's face.

".. thank you."

He looks at Scott and Stiles once more, giving another small wave as he walks off into the parking lot.

Scott watches him go, feeling more powerless than he's felt in the entire time since he's been human again.

* * *

Melissa smiles at him as she hands him his dinner plate.

"There you go, honey, eat up."

Scott smiles back weakly, waiting until his mother is sat down at the table with him before he forces himself to speak.

"Mom, I... I have a friend at school, and.. I think his dad is hurting him."

The look on his mother's face is an equal mix of anger and saddened understanding, and that tells Scott that he'll have all the help he needs in making sure that his friend is safe.

* * *

Scott collapses onto his bed, his eyes feeling heavier and heavier as the minutes pass by in his darkened room.

His phone vibrating in his pocket startles his eyes open.

He pulls it out expecting to see Stiles' name, but his heart rate speeds up when he sees what he recognizes as Deaton's replacement phone number.

Scott answers with a relieved "hello?"

His eyes widen when Laura's deadly-serious tone drifts through the speaker.

_"I'm going to need you to get down here, Scott. Deaton and I need to talk to you. My family's house, now."_

The line goes dead and Scott pulls the phone away from his ear, looking at the blackened screen with slowly-dawning horror.

".... oh fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how close this chapter came to being titled "Fuck Pythagorean Triangles" 😅😂🙈 this one was a bit tricky, because I wanted to get in Scott's headspace and show exactly how this wild situation he's in is affecting him... and also introduce a couple of pack kiddos 😊🐺 I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you so much for the absolutely awesome comments and kudos, you're the best 💙


	7. That Smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bobs my head along to the Teen Wolf intro theme*

Scott sits up in bed, trying to rub the tiredness out of his eyes and contemplating exactly how screwed he is.

Anxiety clouds his mind, and he feels his breath getting thick in his throat. He grabs the inhaler out of his pocket, taking a deep drag until he feels like he can breathe without struggling.

He scrubs a hand down his face and opens his phone, dialing a number that his fingers remember from muscle memory after all these years.

The line rings for long enough that Scott expects it to cut and go to voicemail, but it's answered right before it does.

Stiles' half-asleep voice comes through the speaker.

"Scott? Wha's goin' on??"

"Sorry I woke you, bud.."

"Nah, it's okay, I jus-"

A yawn interrupts him.

"Was just restin' my eyes.."

There's a few seconds of silence before Scott speaks.

"Laura just called me."

Stiles sounds like he snaps awake futher at that.

"Is something wrong?"

"... she called me from Deaton's phone. Said that I needed to get over there so we can talk, now."

".. fuck."

Scott's hand clenches nervously.

"Yeah, that was my sentiment, too."

Scott can practically hear the gears turning in Stiles' mind through the phone.

"... well, do you need a ride?"

"Yeah, please."

"Okay, hang tight, I'm on my way."

"Thank you. I'll be watching out the window."

* * *

Scott slips out through the door of his house quietly, walking carefully to avoid the creaky boards on the porch.

He walks up to Stiles' jeep, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door gently.

Scott shares a worried look with his best friend.

".. hey."

Stiles doesn't reply, watching the dark-haired boy closely for a moment.

"... are you sure you wanna do this? I mean, it's entirely possible that you could be walking into some serious danger here, y'know.. torture, maiming-"

"I'm sure, Stiles."

Scott's lips curl up in a resigned smile.

"This is something I have to do. I want them to trust me, because we will _all_ need to work together to stop what's coming.. and it's coming, sooner, not later."

Stiles feels a swell of annoyed affection in his chest.

"... you're gonna get yourself killed one day."

A slight inkling of shame creeps onto Scott's features.

"Possibly."

Stiles wishes that Scott sounded just a little less accepting of that prospect.

The sheriff's son sighs as he shifts the jeep's gear out of park, driving off down the road slowly.

* * *

Stiles slows the jeep to a stop cautiously, eyeing the Hale house with apprehension.

"And just when I thought this place couldn't look any more ominous..."

Scott looks about as thrilled at the prospect of going inside as Stiles does.

The sheriff's son chews on his lower lip nervously.

"I mean, I'd rather walk into a lion enclosure with a pork-chop in my pocket, but that's just me."

Movement in the shadows on the porch catches Scott's attention, and he squints to try and make out a face through the darkness.

The darkened figure walks out onto the first step, and the moonlight brightens their face just enough for recognition to spark in Scott's mind.

_'Derek.'_

Scott takes in an uneasy inhale and swings the jeep door open, stepping out.

"Wha- Scott!"

Stiles' hushed whisper goes unanswered as Scott walks off towards the house.

He watches his friend's back through the windshield as he walks away, and Stiles feels his lips purse up like he's just taken a bite of something sour.

Stiles sits there in the silence of the jeep for a moment before he heaves out a groan of frustration.

"He's gonna get us _both_ killed one day, and that one day is frickin' today."

Stiles gives a longing look to the baseball bat in the backseat, but rolls his eyes and gets out of the jeep.

"Not like it would make a difference anyways.."

He jogs along to catch up with Scott, both of them closing in on the porch.

Scott gives Derek a curious once-over as he comes closer, examining the older man's features.

'Even he looks younger than I remember...'

Scott stops at the bottom of the steps and nods up at the Beta in greeting.

"Hello, Derek."

Derek raises an eyebrow somewhat curiously at the use of his name from someone who shouldn't know it.

The look on the older man's face is one that Scott has come to hate over the last few days, the curious and unsure twist of his loved ones features as they watch him like he's a stranger.

Derek doesn't return the greeting, nodding over his shoulder at the door behind him.

"Go on."

He suddenly gets the feeling that Derek was sent out to watch him, just in case Scott had a last-minute change of heart and tried to bolt.

And he's pretty sure Derek wouldn't have hesitated to chase him down if he'd tried to run, dragging him back like a rabbit to the wolf den..

Scott makes his way up the steps, heading to the door and walking inside.

Stiles shoots a wary glance at Derek as he walks up the steps, keeping his eyes on the man until he steps through the doorway.

Derek follows them inside, closing the door behind himself.

Scott walks into the burnt remains of what he assumes used to be the living room.

He'd thought, for every day since he'd been in the past, that seeing Deaton, the one man who might possibly have any idea of how Scott had gotten stuck in the past, would bring at least a small measure of relief.

But, he hadn't really factored in the sight of a tensed and suspicious Laura Hale just beside the former pack-emissary.

Scott swallows past the nervous lump in his throat and looks at the older man.

"Hey, Deaton.."

Scott's boss has never been the most expressive person in the world on a regular day, but his features are even more blank and considering than usual.

"Hello, Scott. I hear that you've managed to get a hold of some very interesting information.."

It's been a while since Deaton has aimed such a deeply investigative and searching expression at Scott, and the younger man shifts on his feet at the piercing gaze.

"Could you tell us how you got that information, Scott?"

Stiles stops just a few feet behind Scott, squashing down his own panic and trying to stay strong for his friend. Derek watches them both from his own spot by the stairs.

Scott still hasn't answered Deaton, and he can feel his heartbeat speeding up anxiously as he squirms under the serious gazes of both the former emissary and the Hale Alpha.

"Laura, I'm sorry that I lied, but I had to get you to accept my hel-"

"Shut up and answer the question."

Scott pulls his inhaler out of his pocket, taking a nervous drag off of it as Laura raises her voice and speaks again.

"How do you know what you know, and why did you lie about how you knew Deaton?! Or what, did your Banshee friend, who I'm starting to guess is imaginary, tell you all that you needed to know about his hopes and dreams too?"

Scott's hands begin to shake slightly, Deaton calmly telling Laura to settle down and Stiles firing off an offended "Hey, don't yell at him like that" towards the Alpha, followed by Derek telling Stiles to "Pipe down and shut up" which then leads to Stiles lobbing back with "If i want to hear from the doorman, I'll ring a little bell to get your attention, okay pal?" and Derek's "Oh I'll ring your bell, you little shit" at which point Laura yells at them both to "quiet down and stop bitching".

Scott finally snaps, his overwhelmed shout silencing all of them.

"I'm from the future, okay! That's how I know what I know.."

Deaton's eyebrows furrow together, Laura's jaw dropping open a little.

_"What."_

The Hale Alpha's tone is entirely unamused.

Scott does a mental scramble as he tries to figure out exactly how he needs to convince them.

"I swear, it's the truth! I went to sleep in 2014, and woke up in 2011. It's how I know about the Nemeton, and Deucalion, and Hellhounds and Banshees.. everything."

Confusion and anger seem to be warring on Laura's face, and she pinches at the bridge of her nose.

"Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds??"

But Deaton is watching Scott closely, a deep curiosity showing in his eyes.

Stiles walks up to stand directly beside Scott, looking at Laura with an unwavering gaze.

"He's not lying."

Laura gives an annoyed roll of her eyes.

The Hale beta clears his throat pointedly, Scott and Stiles turning their heads to watch him.

Derek narrows his eyes.

"You're... from the future?"

Scott misses the faint fond-exasperation that usually comes over Derek's face when he and Stiles come to him asking for help (now his face is all angry-eyebrows and that "quit wasting my time, I have important werewolf business to attend to" expression)

The older man jerks his head towards Stiles.

"You from the future too?"

"Oh no, I'm just here for moral support."

Scott suddenly feels a presence behind him, turning back to face it when Deaton's hand locks onto his jaw.

Scott lets out a startled yelp, Stiles jerking in frightened surprise.

Deaton pats Scott's shoulder reassuringly, and Scott calms slightly as he notices Deaton's calmly curious expression and gentle grip.

Scott is staring at Deaton with bewilderment, Laura and Derek giving the veterinarian similar perplexed looks.

"Uh, Scotty? What the hell is he doing??"

Scott doesn't have the slightest inkling of an idea as to what's going on, so he just stays quiet.

Deaton gives a genial smile as retrieves a small flashlight from his pocket.

"It's perfectly okay, boys, I'm just checking for something. Scott, if you wouldn't mind opening your mouth for me?"

Scott blinks and complies hesitantly.

Deaton peers into the dark-haired boy's mouth with the flashlight, clicking the flashlight off and slipping it back into his pocket after a moment.

"You can close your mouth now."

Scott lets his mouth fall shut again, but as soon as it does, Deaton is lifting up Scott's upper lip and inspecting his teeth and gums.

"Uhn, wha' are ye doin' wif mah lipsh??"

Deaton nods to himself, letting go of Scott's lips and lifting up the boy's eyelid with a considering hum.

Scott flails his hands by his sides helplessly.

Deaton turns him loose with an unsure grunt, and Scott lets out a confused but relieved exhale.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Deaton turns to look at Laura, pointing towards Stiles.

"Smell him."

Laura's expression goes boggled.

"What??"

Stiles bewilderment intensifies.

"Smell _me?_ What did I do?!"

Deaton's tone is gently coaxing, seemingly aimed at the both of them.

"Just one good sniff."

"No way! I'm _not_ inhaling the aroma of grubby teenager until you at least tell me why."

Stiles looks a bit offended.

Derek sighs and walks closer to the boys.

"Do you always have to be so difficult.."

Stiles' eyes go wide as Derek stands in front of him, the older man leaning in to press his nose against the boy's neck. Stiles goes as still as stone.

_'Oh god no, don't get a boner, this isn't like that, behave yourself, bad dick, don't, no, **Do not get a boner'**_

Derek takes in a deep inhale against Stiles' throat, pulling back after a few seconds to look at Deaton with a shrug.

"He smells like regular teenage boy. Cheetos and, well, y'know."

Stiles can feel that practically all of his face has gone sunrise-red, and he struggles to make sure that his voice doesn't squeak as he speaks.

"Oh what, you've been smelling lots of teenaged boys lately, huh?"

Derek's lips purse up in agitation, and Scott thinks (not for the first time) that Stiles was born for the sole purpose of endlessly annoying members of the Hale family.

Deaton gives a satisfied nod at Derek's answer and points to Scott.

"Now smell him."

Derek steps closer to Scott, leaning in.

Scott looks to the side awkwardly, noticing Laura facepalming in the corner of the room.

The dark-haired boy can almost feel when Derek goes oddly still against his neck.

The older man pulls away, sniffing with a grimace. Scott's cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"I uh, took a shower before I went to bed, but.. sorry."

Derek's eyebrow raises as he looks over to Deaton.

"Smells like an average human... but there's another odor there. One that I don't recognize."

Deaton's eyes light up in understanding, and he walks away without another word, stepping over to a small bag that's sat on the floor.

He retrieves something from the bag, walking back towards them as all four of the other occupants in the room watch him with mixes of curiosity and confusion.

The veterinarian holds up the scuffed wrist-watch in his hand, and Derek takes in a deep sniff.

He grimaces again and looks at the watch with inspecting eyes.

"It's like.. burnt rubber, but... spicy. What the hell is that scent?"

Laura walks a few steps closer, taking curious sniffs as Deaton answers.

"That is the smell of something that has come into contact with _very powerful_ magic."

Scott takes in a shocked exhale at those words, his mind spinning at the first actual conformation he's gotten that something really did cause this, that it happened for a reason and isn't some fluke of space-time ripping open and spitting him out somewhere he doesn't belong.

Laura's eyebrows knit together in disbelief.

"Wait a second. You're saying that Kyle Reese over there is telling the truth??"

Deaton considers it for a brief moment.

"Time-travel would be beyond unusual, and almost unprecedented... but yes, I believe him."

The veterinarian aims a small smile at Scott, and Laura's eyes drift over to the moonlight shining in through the window.

She walks over to the window in a daze, stopping to stand in the glow of the moon.

The alpha brings her hand up to chew on a thumbnail absentmindely, looking out into the darkened forest as her mind wonders and wanders.

A memory from years ago, one made in the very spot she stands in, presents itself in her head.

_Talia's hand settles on her shoulder in a firm, comforting grip._

_"You have good instincts, that's not your problem... you just have to learn to start actually listening to those instincts, trusting that they'll lead you to where you need to go."_

_Laura turns to look at her mother with an unsure gaze, but Talia just brushes her hair behind her ear fondly and gives a confident smile._

She lets her eyes slide over the barren branches of the trees, keeping her voice to a hushed whisper.

"How were you always so damned sure of yourself.. what was your secret, hmm?"

There's a small, deeply buried part of her that still waits and hopes for her mother to step up behind her with reassuring words or emerge from the forest with her unshakeable strength to save the day and keep their family safe.

She turns away from the window and walks over to Scott with deliberate steps.

Her expression is carefully measured as she stands in front of him.

"If you know so much... do you know who killed our family?"

Scott's heart feels like it wants to skip a beat, but he only hesitates for a second before he answers.

"Yes."

He can see Laura tense up in something resembling anticipation.

_"Who?"_

Scott knows that if he tells her this, blood will spill, and lives will end. But..

'I _cannot_ lie to them again.'

"... Kate Argent."

Unsurprised recognition and rage settle onto Laura's features, and Scott notices Derek flinch slightly out of the corner of his eye.

Scott hopes deeply and desperately that he just made the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a couple more days than the others did, this one fought my brain every step of the way 😅 I had to practically drag it out of my noggin. But I'm happy with how it turned out, and I hope you all enjoyed it 😊 Got to finally see our boy Derek, and catch the first hints of Stiles' attraction to said Sourwolf 😁 not to mention something of an answer for Scott's time-travel woes..
> 
> Thank you so much for all the amazing comments and kudos, being able to share this story with y'all and seeing your lovely response to it is truly the best part of writing 💙


	8. Old friends, older enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *emerges from a dark hole, lays this chapter down on the Stump Of Presentation and crawls away*
> 
> I hope you're all doing good! 😊🐺 I'm on Twitter and Tumblr under the same name if ya wanna chat

Laura had walked off with a seething twist to her features, Derek following along behind her with his own grave expression. 

Scott can just barely make out the sounds of their voices from wherever they are in the house, but he can't understand any words said. For about the dozenth time since he's been stuck in 2011, he wishes that he still had his enhanced hearing.

'.. wish I still had my... enhanced _anything..'_

Worry had crept into his gut when he told Laura the truth about who killed her family, and it's still there, heavy as it settles.

Scott catches himself longing for a time when every other decision he made didn't have to be life-or-death. 

Stiles bumps his shoulder gently, sat beside him on the floor. (The Hale house wasn't exactly furnished for guests at the moment)

"Hey, you alright?"

Scott nods distractedly.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just, y'know, thinking.."

"Ahhh, I see. I thought I heard gears crunching..."

The wisecrack pulls a tired smirk out of Scott, but it fades off quickly as a nervous grimace replaces it.

They sit there for long enough that Stiles almost drifts off to sleep once or twice, only the muffled conversation of Derek and Laura breaking the silence, along with the occasional brush of a page turning as Deaton reads through some supernatural lore book he'd brought when he came to examine Scott.

After a while, the Hale Alpha and Beta finally emerge from the back of the house, stepping into the living room with hesitant acceptance showing on their faces.

Laura crosses her arms with a deep inhale.

"So, working under the assumption that you are actually telling the truth.. what the hell else do we need to know?"

A quietly tired sigh slips past Scott's lips, and he dredges up all the prevalent information out of his mind that he'll need to tell this story.

* * *

A measured exhale falls from Scott's mouth once he's finished speaking. Laura's expression becomes progressively more tired with each piece of information he reveals, and she stands there rubbing at her temple with a grimace.

Derek looks cautiously calculating, with just a faint sliver of worry creeping onto his features.

Deaton, unsurprisingly, seems to be the most calmly collected person in the room that's hearing that story for the first time, though there are flashes of concern and curiosity across his face.

Scott runs a hand through his hair tiredly, his eyes flickering back and forth between Derek and Laura.

"So.. since we stopped Peter, there won't be any killing spree to draw in the Argents, and it'll be a while before the alpha pack decides to come our way... my point is: we've bought some time to plan and prepare. And we are going to need every second we've got to get ready.."

Derek nods his head towards the stairs leading up to the second floor.

"Speaking of our mentally-wobbly uncle, he's only been _partially_ handled. We can't keep him chained up in here forever."

Deaton gives a considering hum.

"I know of a place where they can keep him locked down. We can take him there later today."

Laura grinds her boot into the wood beneath it, Peter's enraged screams and cruel words reverberating through her mind.

"The sooner we get him squared away in some place where the sun doesn't shine, the happier I'll be."

There's a moment of contemplative silence in the room, and Scott makes eye-contact with the alpha and beta as he speaks.

"There is one other thing you need to know... your sister, Cora.. she's alive."

Derek and Laura's faces both go slack with shock.

_"What??"_

Laura stares at him with cautious disbelief.

Scott pictures the younger Hale sister's face in his mind, nodding with a small smile.

"She escaped the fire and ran. She's somewhere in South America at the moment, and I'm not sure how you could contact her, but.. she's alive."

Happiness and relief overtake the shock on Laura's face, and a similarly warm look has graced Derek's features.

The brother and sister share a long glance with each other, unspoken words passing between them.

Scott's smile widens at the unusually open and happy looks on their faces, and he hopes silently to himself that he gets to see them wear those expressions again.

* * *

Deaton is gathering up the few supplies he'd brought with him and preparing to leave as Laura scrubs a hand down her face and looks at the pitch dark forest outside the window.

The Hale Alpha turns her gaze to the two boys standing next to each other in the corner, noticing the wobbly stances they've both taken up.

"It's been a long day, and our night isn't over.. but yours is. You two should go home. We'll call you if anything comes up."

Scott almost wants to protest, but one look at Stiles' exhausted form beside him dashes that desire quickly.

It's creeping up on 2 AM and they'll need to drive back and slip into their houses quietly if they don't want to spark an inquisition from either of their parents.

'Not to mention try and get a couple hours of sleep before we have to stumble into school..'

A quiet groan rises out of Scott's throat and he settles his hand Stiles' shoulder. The Sheriff's son gives a deep yawn in response.

"C'mon, bud.. let's go home."

* * *

Scott startles awake with a sleepy shout as his mother shakes him.

"You're going to be late! Wake up and get out of bed, c'mon."

His eyes pry open and sunlight shines directly into them. Scott throws an arm up to shield his face with a wounded noise.

"Oh my god."

* * *

Stiles rubs a hand over his closely-cropped hair and lets another yawn slip out as he and Scott walk into the school.

Scott notices the dark circles under his best friend's eyes and suppresses a shudder as the pale visage of Nogitsune Stiles flashes through his mind.

They see Isaac at his locker and Scott throws his hand up to wave.

"Hey Isaac!"

The other boy turns around with confusion on his features, but his expression shifts as he sees Scott and Stiles.

He raises a hand to wave back, his lips curling up into a smile.

* * *

Stiles is caught face-down and drooling into his chemistry test, and Scott fights to keep himself awake through class so he doesn't receive similar loudly-voiced chastisement, keeping his mind on the subject of everything that happened on the night before to stay conscious.

After days of worrying and wondering, Deaton finally knows that _something_ happened to send Scott back in time, and the dark-haired boy is sure that he'll research like a machine until he figures out exactly _what_ and _how_ it happened.

'And maybe.. he'll know how to fix it...'

But the thought of this situation being fixed by sending him back to his own time doesn't fill him with relief like it had it at first. Does the moment in time he'd been sent back from even exist anymore now that he's already changed things?

And if it does still exist, would Laura be alive if he was sent forward? Or would she be relegated to her old fate, murdered by her own kin and cut in half by hunters? And the other people he needs to save, what about them?

_'.. what would happen to Allison if I left?'_

Scott pictures Laura, the unsure glint he's seen in her eyes when she's been faced with do-or-die decisions, the ferocity in her alpha-red irises that screams "I'll do anything to protect my pack, my _family_ ". He knows those expressions well, because he's seen them in the mirror.

He decides quickly, firm and sure in the knowledge of what he needs to do. As long as his friends, his pack, his family needs help... he isn't going anywhere.

* * *

Scott and Stiles see Isaac again as they walk towards the cafeteria, the three boys wordlessly slipping through the crowd to stand beside each other and walk together.

Scott lets his eyes drift over the room in search, waving back at Stiles and Isaac's questioning expressions when he walks in the opposite direction of their table.

He slows to a stop beside another table, Erica looking up from her seat with a slight startle as he speaks.

"Hey there. My friends and I have a free spot at our table over there, and I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to sit with us?"

Erica stares at him with a confused blink, and an embarrassed chuckle slips out of Scott's mouth.

"Sorry, I uh, probably should've introduced myself first. I'm Scott."

A warm smile grows on his face, and she hesitates only for the briefest moment before she returns it with a soft smile of her own.

"I'm Erica."

* * *

Erica tucks a strand of messy blonde hair behind her ear as she slides into the seat next to Isaac carefully, watching the three boys with a resigned suspicion that implies she expects a banner emblazoned with "Joke's on you!" to drop from the ceiling at any moment.

Scott keeps his questions light and easy, making sure they're all well-introduced. Isaac and Erica both stay shyly quiet for most of lunch, but Stiles manages to fend off the silence and even gets a couple of bashful grins out of their new friends with his sleepy-but-excited chatter.

The school-bell rings and Scott wishes the four of them could just stay there, talking and being together. If the expressions on Isaac and Erica's faces are anything to go by, they feel the same.

* * *

Scott pulls the blanket up to cover his chest, settling his head onto the pillow with an exhausted sigh.

In a rare occurrence, his daily routine had consisted of going through school half-asleep, spending a little time with his friends, and coming home to his mom and a pizza dinner with a pile of homework in his backpack to be tackled later. It's closer to a normal day than anything Scott has had in a long time.

He savors the quietly peaceful feeling that comes with it as he drifts to sleep.

* * *

Scott somehow makes it to the end of the next school-day with this streak of normalcy intact. No calls, texts, or visits from any werewolves, mystical veterinarians, or other supernatural beings. He isn't sure if it's a blessed respite from spooky shenanigans, or just the calm before a violent storm.

The students are all filing out of the building, Scott and his friends among them, when Isaac speaks up.

"Uh, hey.. you said you wanted to hang out the other night, and well, I don't have to be home early tonight, so..."

Isaac trails off awkwardly, but Scott grins brightly.

"Oh yeah, that'd be great! How about you, Erica? You have some free time?"

The question catches her off-guard, but she raises her eyebrows and nods slowly after a moment.

".. um, yeah. I- I don't have anything going on."

Scott shares an excited glance with Stiles.

"Awesome! We can go to the..."

'.. what do normal teenagers do??'

His mind goes blank, only the thought of 'why don't you go find one and ask them?' popping up in his head.

"... to the mall. Fo- to hang out."

Isaac quirks an eyebrow.

"Do people still do that?"

Scott nods confidently.

"Yeah! They totally do."

Scott turns to look at Stiles, his voice quieter.

"They do, right?"

Stiles takes a few seconds to think before he responds.

"... well, I see them go there to hang out all the time. On uh, y'know.. TV."

Erica stares at him blankly.

"Is it TV from the 80's?"

* * *

The automatic doors slide open, and the four of them are greeted by the sight of a small throng of people milling about in the mall.

They walk inside and maneuver around the scattered crowd, Scott gently steering them away from the brightly-lit and flashing arcade that he worries might trigger Erica's epilepsy.

The food court becomes their first stop, though the fried chicken is greasy to the point that Stiles claims "I can feel the arteries in my heart hardening mid-chew" but Scott is pretty sure that isn't actually a complaint.

They snag some cupcakes that have enough sweetness to make their teeth hurt before they leave.

There's the sound of gently trickling water from the wishing well behind them as they sit on its granite rim, giving their stuffed and slightly aching stomachs a chance to rest before they head off to their next stop.

Stiles takes two of the jumbo straws he'd nabbed from the food court and attaches them to his teeth, giving him the appearance of something like a very scrawny and unthreatening sabretooth tiger. The sight shocks an amused snort out of Erica when she turns to look at him.

An older woman slows her pace as she's walking by, taking a moment to gawk at the four of them.

Stiles tilts his head.

"What? Haven't you ever seen an Alaskan woodchuck before??"

The woman's eyes widen even further and she storms off with a bewildered expression.

Erica's cheeks heat up with a combination of amusement and embarrassment, unable to stop the snickers slipping out of her mouth.

Isaac is hiding his own reddened face behind his hands, and Scott fights back a proud grin.

Stiles laughs and the straws fall from his mouth, the sheriff's son scrambling to catch them.

Erica's snickers evolve into a full cackle, her raucous laughter setting off Scott and Isaac's own loud giggling.

She's laughing so hard that she leans back and almost tips over into the wishing well, but Isaac steadies her with a gentle hand on her back.

As they sit there, breathless giggles fading off and wiping tears away from their flushed faces, Scott knows that he'll never have a more clear or convincing picture of what he's fighting for.

* * *

They're wandering around in a prank toy store, Stiles staring wistfully at a pair of Whoopee Cushions when Scott stops suddenly in his tracks.

He'd glanced out through the clear doors of the shop on impulse, but the sight that greets him feels like it sucks the oxygen out of his chest violently.

Allison steps out of the clothing store with a smile, aiming a friendly wave back at the cashier as she walks out.

Several thoughts race through Scott's mind at once.

_The feel of her lips on his._

_The look in her eyes when he'd told her "I know we'll be together."_

_The way her cold, limp body had settled in his arms._

Allison looks over the two blouses she'd bought appreciatively as Scott has a mini-breakdown fifty feet away.

He calms himself by repeating _"she's alive, she's okay, she's right there"_ over and over in his head until he stops feeling the desire to reach for his inhaler.

She turns to look at the Sporting Goods store, biting her lip gently and walking off towards it curiously. Scott feels a burst of unbridled affection in his chest.

But that's when a more logical section of his brain seems to click into place.

'If she's here in Beacon Hills, then that means...'

Scott huffs out a nervous breath and snatches his phone out of his pocket with shaky fingers.

He punches in Derek's number by memory and hits send, letting out a quiet curse as it goes straight to voicemail.

* * *

Derek hooks his phone up to the charging cable in his car, eyeing the "Low Battery: charge further before activating." message on the screen with an annoyed quirk of his lips.

He leans back out of the car and slams the door shut, dry leaves crunching under his boots as he walks across the yard.

Derek's gaze passes over his sister, who's sat down on the edge of the porch and staring off into the sunset-orange horizon.

He clears his throat before he speaks.

"Hey, you doing okay?"

She turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow in bleak amusement.

"What could've possibly given you the idea that I was anything less than hunky-dory?"

The slightest hint of a sarcastic grin forms on his face.

".. well, our uncle did try to murder you a few days ago, and we found out that our assumed-dead sister was actually alive, not to mention the fact that this information was given to us by a time-traveling teenager with a Bieber haircut."

A bemused sigh falls from Laura's mouth.

"Yeah... I don't suppose there's any sugar-coating that'll cover that avalanche of crazy shit."

Derek's expression smooths out into something warmer, and he aims a small smile of solidarity at his sibling.

She returns the smile with a grateful nod.

Laura's hearing picks up the sound of a rumbling engine suddenly, and her eyes snap to the trail leading to their house.

Derek hears it a second later, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the sound.

The Hale Alpha rises to her feet slowly, she and her brother stood firmly as they watch the road.

After a few minutes, a black SUV rolls into sight. It pulls up to a stop at the edge of the yard, another vehicle just like it coming to a stop beside it.

The driver-side door opens, a boot planting onto the ground as a man steps out.

Derek's eyes widen slightly as Chris Argent walks into view.

The passenger-side door on the other car swings open, and Derek hears a sickeningly familiar voice call out across the yard before he sees the face that goes with it.

"Hiya, handsome! Long time no see.."

Kate aims a wink at him as she shuts the door with a thud.

The Hale beta clenches his fist angrily, and Laura's eyes glow red as she lets out a deep growl.

Kate grins as she pulls a pistol from the holster at her waist, aiming it at Laura tauntingly.

"Come on, _bitch._ Your fangs versus my Beretta, let's see who wins."

Laura's muscles go taut with tension, her whole body poised and ready to strike as she speaks with a warning tone.

"I'll call it a win once you're in too many pieces to count."

The hammer on Kate's pistol is pulled back with a click, and she takes a purposeful step forwards.

There's a thud as another car door shuts, Kate halting her advance when she hears the voice behind her.

"Go easy now, dear. There's no need to agitate them."

Gerard's wrinkled features twist as he gives a cold, menacing smile.

"After all... what would be the point in that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😅🙈 I had some major writer's block to fight through as I was writing this chapter, as well as some life stuff keeping me busy, so I'm sorry this one took a bit longer than the others did 😬 I am happy with how it turned out, though. I hope you enjoyed it! 😊 I love hearing what y'alls thoughts on the chapter are and your favourite lines or moments, so lemme know in a comment if you have a free minute 💙


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